Slaid Cleaves’ music is marked by both the quirky blend of isolated eccentricity and steely resilience of his Yankee upbringing and the weathered soul of Texas, the state he has called home for over a decade now. First registering on the national folk scene by winning the Kerrville Folk Festival’s New Folk competition in 1992, Cleaves released his national debut No Angel Knows (Philo/Rounder) in 1997, following a string of self-released albums and many nights logged in folk clubs as both a performer and a soundman. Met with effusive critical praise, No Angel Knows was followed by Broke Down (Philo/Rounder) in 2000, which expanded his audience exponentially by virtue of its exceedingly well-crafted songs and rugged Gurf Morlix production. In addition to the title track, a Rod Picott collaboration that won Song of the Year at the Austin Music Awards in 2001, Broke Down featured a couple of interpretations of other writers’ songs prefiguring Slaid’s later work, including a poignant reading of fellow Austinite Karen Poston’s “Lydia.”
Following Broke Down came 2004’s Wishbones (Philo/Rounder), a richly detailed exploration of life’s darker corners where still a ray of hope somehow shines. Wishbones climbed to the top of the Americana Radio chart coming in at #1 for 2004 while Slaid toured relentlessly promoting the album. It was after the recording of Wishbones that Cleaves began to consider the endeavor that became Unsung. “Over the years,” Cleaves explains, “as I grew as a songwriter, my songs began to make up the bulk of my sets. But I continued to throw in the odd song by a hero or friend, both in my shows and on the records I made. I did that partly out of tribute to my influences, but also to give my set, or album, some context and some variety.” These are songs from the songwriter trenches – compositions Cleaves first heard at late-night song-swaps, open-mic nights, during downtime at recording sessions, and on modest self-released CDs. Thanks to the work of producers David Henry and Rod Picott (a long-time Cleaves cohort and fellow Mainer), the performances and backdrops on Unsung are as evocative and captivating as the songs themselves. Cleaves’ gifts as an interpreter are such that the line between singer and song vanish completely.
"Cleaves tells gorgeously compact stories in a voice packed with Texas trail dust." -- Entertainment Weekly
"...one of the finest singer-songwriters in Texas." -- Neil Strauss, The New York Times
Lydia
Slaid Cleaves Lyrics
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Ancient fumbling fingers in her way
From a forty year old coffee cup she sipped a bit of gin,
Closed her eyes and let the memories in.
She lives in the old place all alone,
Keeps in touch with neighbours by the phone,
Grows herbs on the graves of her firstborn and his father,
Oh Lydie, let him go. the boy is gone,
Her mother struggled as she tore him from her arms,
Oh Lydia, your tears are heaven's rain,
But she never was the same.
A cotton dress and satin shoes,
Indian summer sun, dressed in amber hues,
Spending time with a coal miner's son,
To an old time fiddle tune,
The months went by just like a breeze that year,
They wed in June, and by the fall the boy was here,,
Word come down from big stone, there's a fire in the mine,
And eleven men they couldn't find.
Oh Lydie, let him go. the boy is gone,
Her mother struggled as she tore him from her arms,
Oh Lydia, your tears are heaven's rain,
But she never was the same.
She watched them pull him from the hole,
The overalls he wore were blackened by the smoke,
Lydie twice had had this dream and twice it had come true.
And when she saw his father's boots she knew.
Oh Lydie, let him go. the boy is gone,
Her mother struggled as she tore him from her arms,
Oh Lydia, your tears are heaven's rain,
But she never was the same.
Lydie lit a cigarette today,
Ancient fumbling fingers in her way
From a forty year old coffee cup she sipped a bit of gin,
Closed her eyes and let the memories in.
"Lydia" is a song by Slaid Cleaves that tells the story of a woman named Lydia who lives alone in her old house surrounded by memories of her past. With trembling hands, she lights a cigarette and sips on gin from a 40-year-old coffee cup. She grows herbs on the graves of her first-born son and his father to keep their memory alive. Lydia’s son was a coal miner, and she raised him alone after his father died early on. The song describes the Indian summer sun, amber hues, and fiddle tunes that Lydia associates with her youth. She fell in love with a coal miner's son and married him in June, but in the fall, the mine caught fire, and 11 men never came out.
Line by Line Meaning
Lydie lit a cigarette today,
Lydia sparked a cigarette on this day
Ancient fumbling fingers in her way
Her elderly hands clumsily struck the lighter
From a forty year old coffee cup she sipped a bit of gin,
She drank gin from a vintage coffee mug
Closed her eyes and let the memories in.
She reminisced by shutting her eyes and allowing memories to engulf her
She lives in the old place all alone,
She resides in a solitary and ancient dwelling
Keeps in touch with neighbors by the phone,
She communicates with her neighbors solely over the phone
Grows herbs on the graves of her firstborn and his father,
She cultivates herbs over the graves of her deceased child and his father
And the coal trucks never bother her.
The rumbling coal trucks do not disturb her peace
Oh Lydie, let him go. the boy is gone,
Lydia, concede - the young boy has perished
Her mother struggled as she tore him from her arms,
Her mother fought to separate the boy from her grasp
Oh Lydia, your tears are heaven's rain,
Lydia, your tears are akin to divine precipitation
But she never was the same.
However, she was never the same after the traumatic event
A cotton dress and satin shoes,
She wore a cotton dress and satin shoes
Indian summer sun, dressed in amber hues,
The warm Indian summer sun, bathed in amber colors
Spending time with a coal miner's son,
She spent time with the child of a coal miner
To an old time fiddle tune,
They listened to a traditional fiddle melody
The months went by just like a breeze that year,
The months of that year passed quickly
They wed in June, and by the fall the boy was here,
They married in June, and by the fall their child was born
Word come down from big stone, there's a fire in the mine,
News arrived from Big Stone that there was a fire in the mine
And eleven men they couldn't find.
Eleven miners could not be located
She watched them pull him from the hole,
She viewed them extracting his body from the mine shaft
The overalls he wore were blackened by the smoke,
His overalls were smudged with soot from the fire
Lydie twice had had this dream and twice it had come true.
Lydia had this nightmare twice, and it came true twice
And when she saw his father's boots she knew.
Upon spotting his father's boots, she knew her worst fears were true
Contributed by Jordyn F. Suggest a correction in the comments below.